Root
by Faery Goddyss
Summary: It was a relationship built on love, trust, and years of friendship. Or so everyone thought. One sided STYLE.
1. TWO PEOPLE

**AN: **I haven't had a story write itself in ages. Meaning this one did. For those who know of my plans for a new style fic…this AINT it. No, this is something completely different. It's for imaginaaation. Dear, this is my "drabble" for you. I don't really do drabbles, I don't like things that short. I always feel incomplete. In any case, each chapter goes into a different POV of a different boy.**  
Warnings: ** Swearing, homo's, OOCness, slight violent themes, and grammar issues that never get better with age.**  
Disclaimer: **If I owned South Park there'd be new episodes out by now. Burn.

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Root  
I. TWO PEOPLE

They never had any real problems. It was Stan and Kyle after all. Sure they got in a few random fights, about the usual stupid shit, but they were both pretty quick about apologizing. What they had, while making me sick most of the time, made me envious. _I _wanted what they had with each other with someone, or at least deep down I did. It wasn't something that I would have readily admitted to anyone at the time.

Fucking around, going to parties, drinking, that was good enough for me. I mean, shit, we were, ARE only 21. Still too young to be settling down in my opinion.

But those two…they might've well as settled down when they realized they had a boner for each other back in 6th grade. At the same time I could never see either of them spending the rest of lives with anyone else other than each other. That's just how tight they were. As friends and as lovers. That was Stan and Kyle. That's always how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to be able to meet up with them twenty years down the line, trailing my wife and brats along with me. We were supposed to all have conversations about how even two decades later they could still get each other hot and bothered over the most passive of sexual innuendoes.

That's how it was gonna be.

Instead, what am I doing but sitting here looking back and forth at Kyle and my girlfriend of the month. I haven't bothered to put a shirt on since they've both seen me in less. But she looks a bit uncomfortable, and Kyle…Kyle looks like he's about to throw up.

The silence is killing me. But he was the one that came knocking on my door at 2 AM looking like a depressed nervous wreck. I'm in the middle of an odd situation, and it's only gonna get odder, I can tell. The very idea that Kyle even came to ME of all people, is freaking me out. Of course we're buds, but I'm not dumb enough to think we're best friends. I've always been closer to Stan, just like Kyle's always been closer to Cartman (even if he'd deny that to the seventh layer of hell).

"Alright, what?" I finally ask. I can't take it anymore. This air is driving me fucking NUTS.

Kyle fiddles with his hands before looking up at me, and then he steals a glance at my girlfriend.

Right.

I look over at her. "Karen, mind taking off for the night?"

She looks surprised by my question, which probably sounded more like a demand, and she almost opens her mouth to protest until she sees my raised eyebrow. She knows exactly where she stands in my life and it's not even in the top ten.

"Fine," she responds and rises abruptly. I think she wants to say something to Kyle, but looking at his miserable face seems to stop her.

Kyle and I say nothing as she heads back into my bedroom, getting her things together, putting on a few extra layers of clothes and taking off. I made sure to give her a small wave, a 'I'll give ya a call when I get the chance' wave. There's no reason for her to think I'm tossing her aside, friendships just more important to me. It always has been.

"So what's up?" I ask. "Was Cartman not home?"

He glares at me briefly before shaking his head. "I can't…I can't go to _him _with this."

"…Okay." I was almost tempted to ask him where the hell Stan was. But that would have been a stupid question. Kyle wouldn't be here if Stan wasn't the problem.

"Stan and I had a fight," he says simply. So simply in fact, that alarms start to go off in my brain and I force myself to look a little bit closer at the red head in front of me. He looks haggard. His clothes are rumpled and he's in the same orange zip up sweatshirt, with the same green puffed vest and blue jeans I remember him wearing yesterday. His brown sneakers are only half tied, and his red curls are limply hanging around his face.

I watch him as he gathers his hands together and presses them against his forehead. Like he's trying to will himself to continue, which I realize he probably is.

"This…wasn't some everyday, you left your shit on the floor, fight was it?" I question softly.

"Remember last weekend, when we all went out to that club in Denver?" He asks, rather than answering my question.

"Yeah," I nod. "Stan had to drag you because you hate clubs."

He only nods to this and takes a moment before he continues. "And do you remember…well maybe you don't, because you were talking with Stan, but Tweek came up to me and he asked me to dance?"

I can't help but to grin slightly. Yeah I remember. The both of them were tipsy as hell. Then again, tipsy is what it takes for the two of them to get the courage to shake their rhythm less asses on a dance floor.

"I remember perfectly actually. Watching you two "dance" was a lot more amusing then debating with Stan."

"Oh?" Kyle squeaks out, but he suddenly looks a little bit more alert. "We were just dancing right, me and Tweek? I mean, I wasn't drunk. It's not like I don't remember what happened but…"

"But you still had some four drinks," I finish for him.

"Yeah…so?" He looks at me expectantly and I'm starting to wonder why he needs to know so badly. But it seems like he really has to, so I pause to remember the night before I answer him.

"You guys were dancing." I state. "Laughing, giggling, acting like school girls." I grin at him. "Nothing out of the ordinary. I mean…Kyle, what exactly are you looking for me to say to you?"

"What _kind _of dancing were we doing? Like…was I an arm's length apart from Tweek, or were we grinding or what?"

"I'd hardly call what you two did grinding, since that requires being in sync with the person across from you."

He gives me a pained looked.

"But that's probably what it was. It's not like it was dirty though," I rush on when I see the color drain from his face. "I mean, Jesus Christ Kyle. It was you and TWEEK. YOU and Tweek. Two friends getting their freak on, nothing to be ashamed about." I pause for a couple minutes to study him. He's thinking about something and as he does so the color comes back to his face. "Dude, Kyle…why are you _asking _me this?"

"Stan hit me."

I stare at him. What did he say?

Kyle's eyeing me warily and he swallows quietly, but the sound echoes in my tiny apartment.

"I mean, we hit each other all the time," he rushes out. "When I get pissed, sometimes I push him against a wall, or I'll kick him or something, and he'll do the same. We'll yell at each other, and swear, and tell each other to fuck off. But it's always been on equal terms, if that makes any sense."

I continue to stare, because I've never heard about any of this. "No, it doesn't," I tell him dully. "Explain it to me."

He sighs and doesn't say anything for a moment. "It's never over anything serious really…that's just how we fight. We can't just…talk things out, sometimes we get a little physical but it never really hurts the other person."

I shake my head silently in complete disapproval, but say nothing to it. I hadn't known they had those sorts of fights, but apparently it's not out of the ordinary with either of them. "What made this time different then?" I ask Kyle, which seems to be the question he was waiting for.

"This time…we…" he stops and I realize because it looks like he's about to cry.

"Kyle, dude," I say quietly and inch a little closer to him. I'm not that into physical contact with other guys, even if they ARE my friends so I'm hoping my mere presence is enough for him at the moment. "_What_?" I press.

"When we fight it's never anything damaging. There's never evidence left and we never hit above the neck. It's just an unsaid rule. That would mean we went too far."

This startles me and suddenly my eyes rove over Kyle's exposed face, looking for bruises, scratches, anything. He obviously sees this and shakes his head.

Kyle's curls completely frame his face. They run over his forward and cover his ears and a good portion of the upper part of his neck. So it's not surprising that I didn't see anything until he lifts his hair away from his right ear.

I wince.

And I freeze for just a split second before my hands make their way to examine the large purplish bruise that's covering the bottom part of his lobe, upper jaw and upper neck line. I touch it gently with shaking hands, and just that slight touch causes Kyle to cringe.

"Does it hurt?" I breathe out.

"A bit."

I drop my hand to my side and look at Kyle. He looks back before he looks away. Unable to stand it, I'm sure.

I stand up and head to my room, tossing on a sweatshirt and slipping on some sneakers. Once changed, I head back into the living room, bypassing Kyle without a word and heading toward my front door.

"Where're you going?" He calls out nervously.

"Where do you think? I'm going to your place to fuck Stan up."

Kyle jumps up just as my hand reaches the doorknob, stopping me. "No!" He cries out.

"What?" I ask, as I slowly turn around to look at his frantic features. "You just told me he smacked you, and then you showed me what it left you with. What did you think I was gonna do Kyle? Say, oh damn that sucks, and let it go? Of course not! I thought you two agreed no hitting above the neck?! Didn't he just violate that agreement?!"

"Yeah but…I didn't tell you so that you could go over there and beat the shit out of him Kenny. You know you'd both only end up in the hospital together."

He's got a point there. Stan and I match equally in strength, but I've got a lot of anger right now. I'm sure it'd make my punches a hell of a lot more powerful than his.

"I just had to tell someone," Kyle continues. "And then I'd hoped you'd let me stay the night. To give Stan time to cool off…I know he didn't mean it. He'll be regretting it come morning, you'll see."

Kyle's hand is firmly on my wrist. He has no intention of letting me leave, even though I have half a mind to toss him aside and leave anyway. The way he's saying all this…it's how my parents started out. How my mom used to say, way back when I was 5 that my dad didn't mean to hit her. Then again, those two have got a special kind of relationship because it wasn't long before my mom hit back and I learned to ignore it. I only did that because it didn't seem like either of them were helpless. They both got hurt, equally so, so I figured that made their relationship okay.

But Kyle and Stan are not my parents. Kyle's no damsel in distress, but he's not Stan's size either.

"I don't like this Kyle," I tell him bluntly.

He looks apologetic and nods his head, but he doesn't release his grip on me.

"Fine, I say, dropping my hand from the knob.

"Thanks Ken," he sighs relieved. Releasing me we step back into the living room and I pull out the couch sofa so he can sleep on it.

He helps me out, and helps me make the bed with the one extra set of sheets and blankets that I have. I quickly notice that he didn't bring a change of clothes, or anything for that matter. Seems like the only thing he had on his mind when he left Stan's was to bolt. Something that does not sit well with me.

I give him an extra pair of my PJ's to change into and while he does so I study him. Not in a perverted way, but I'm already looking for any other marks on him. I know he knows that I'm doing so, but he doesn't say anything to it. Once changed, I watch him step into the couch bed.

I don't move from the side of the bed and whether Kyle's uncomfortable with me staring down at him in silence or not, he doesn't say. Though it's like a sudden wave of tiredness overcomes him because his eyes start to flutter.

"Is that why he hit you?" I ask suddenly and Kyle's eyes snap back open, only to look up at my stained ceiling.

He doesn't bother to play around with my sudden question. He knows what I mean. "Because I was dancing with Tweek?" He asks for confirmation.

"Yeah, is that why?"

"I think that's part of it…I'm not sure of the other reasons."

He clearly doesn't want to talk about it anymore because he shifts his body so that his back is to me. Even so, I reach over and gently squeeze his shoulder.

"Night man," I say gently.

"Night," he mumbles back.

As I start to head back to my room I hear him shuffle against the blankets. "Thanks Ken," he says. It stops me in my short hallway and I look back at him.

Rather than proceed to my room I feel myself lean against my wall and slide down. "Sure thing," I mutter back as I hit the flooring. Sitting there in the slight darkness I watch as Kyle falls to sleep. I have a list of crap I've gotta do tomorrow so I ought to be heading to bed myself. Instead I know that won't be happening. I suddenly can't bear the thought of leaving him unsupervised.

I know nothing's gonna happen to him tonight, especially in my place, but I've got this overwhelming urge to watch him sleep. To make sure he'll be okay.

I'm still trying to come to terms that Stan and Kyle EVER got physical with each other, let alone that Stan took it further than either of them ever allowed. I mean…maybe other people have those kinda problems, but them?

I don't know how I'm going to be able to face Stan the next time I see him without punching his face. Especially since Kyle's probably not gonna want me to tell Stan that I know. He didn't say that, but I figure he wouldn't want me too.

Kyle's put me in one awkward position, but it doesn't seem real to me. I'm having a hard time fathoming that this is all real.

They're two people who are supposed to be perfect for each other.

Two people that give people like me hope that I can find someone for me just like they did.

These are a couple of my closest friends.

Two people who're supposed to be in love, enough to make me gag.

What the fuck happened?

Kyle getting hit over dancing, DANCING, with Tweek Tweak? No, that can't be it. Kyle must not be telling me something.

I bang my head quietly against my wall and close my eyes.

And at that moment, that's when I knew it. That's when I knew the little rose colored world of happiness, love, and admiration was completely over.

**-FG**


	2. TOO DAMAGED

**AN: **I'm slowly, but surely getting back my power to write. I was in and still sorta am in a slump like no other. It's been going on since my last finished story. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews for the first chapter everyone! Let's move on!

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Root  
2. TOO DAMAGED

Where the hell is he?!

Kenny's late, again!

Grinding my teeth together I scan over the small crowd of people in the diner. No matter how many times I've glanced around I've yet to see a dirty blonde head of hair. That bastard is supposed to meet me here for breakfast! _I _won the last bet, so he owes _me _a decent meal!

I've been sitting here for over an hour getting more and more pissed off by the second. When the waitress comes by to ask, _again, _if I'm sure I don't want to go ahead and order I sneer at her before slamming my hands on the table. She looks a little startled at my behavior but before she can say anything about it I slip out of my chair to leave.

Fuck this! I'mma go to Kenny's and drag him back here!

Stomping my way through town I'm inwardly pleased to see that people are more or less jumping out of my way as I walk by them. It's like they can feel the rage inside me. I smirk. Damn straight.

I cringe at the sight of Kenny's apartment. The whole damn place is sketchy, even in broad daylight. Luckily he's on the first floor on a corner. This way I don't have to venture too far into the complex. Stopping outside his door I take in a deep breath and pound on it with my clenched fist.

My ears perk at the sound of shuffling from inside. I swear I hear someone say, "hush." Figuring it's Kenny I wait for him to open the door, but when he doesn't I frown and pound on his door again.

"Open the door you stupid fuck!" I bellow out.

This time I _know _I hear something, sounded like a collective sigh, before the door opens and Kenny eyes me wearily still in his PJ's.

"Cartman," he says. "Why the hell are you banging on people's doors at eight in the morning?"

"Why?" I ask mocking him. "What day is it again?"

He frowns, "I don't have time to play your stupid games Ca-"

"I said what day is it?" I interrupt him.

He narrows his eyes at me before answering, "Sunday. So what? You know I don't go to church anymore. I'm cool with you believing, but that doesn't mean I have to bend over and let Jesus stick it up my-"

"You owe me breakfast asshole!" I bark at him. He gives me a blank look. "For the bet I won last week?"

I watch as realization dawns on his face, "oh yeah," he mutters. "Well, whatever I can't today so here." He disappears for a second before reappearing with a $5.00 bill and shoving it at me. "Go crazy," he says and starts to shut the door in my face, but I'm quick to stick my foot in the door before he can do so. "What?" he asks exasperated.

"Just what the hell…" I start. "Am I supposed to buy with $5?! That won't even get me a decent egg skillet!"

"Sorry, but that's all the cash I have right now. Look, we can talk about this later okay?" And at this he does shut the door, locking it for emphasis.

I stare at the closed door for some twenty seconds before I start pounding on it again, even more pissed off than I was before. Kenny's pretty good at ignoring me for awhile, but my persistence as always been top notch and it isn't long before the sounds of the door unlocking fill the air, and before the door is wrenched open again.

"WHAT?!" He bellows at me, clearly irritated. "Didn't I tell you to get lost?! Take the hint!"

"Ugh, just let him in. He's driving me insane," I hear a light voice say. My ears perk at this, recognizing the voice.

"Kyle?" I ask more to myself as I shove past Kenny. I ignore the glare he sends my way as I walk into his place.

Kyle's sitting on his fold away couch, wrapped up in blankets. It looks like he just woke up if his disheveled state says anything. He also looks a bit…hm. I can't place it. But I glance behind me at Kenny who's walking toward me, making himself comfortable on the edge of the bed.

I watch as the two peek at each other before looking back at me. I narrow my eyes suddenly as I study them closely.

"Don't tell me," I start slowly. Images are starting to pop in my head.

"Don't tell you what?" Kenny asks dryly.

My lip curls in disgust slightly as I pointedly stare at Kyle. "Don't tell me you've left Stan to fuck Kenny? Because while I don't approve of your faggy relationship with Stan, he's a lot better than this guy."

"What's that supposed to mean you fat prick?" Kenny snarls at the same time as Kyle exclaims a loud, "no!"

"Oh. Good," I say. Looking around his apartment I grab the nearest dining room chair, which happens to be falling apart, before I plant it on the other edge of the bed that Kyle is on. "Then what's up with the sleepover girls? Stan in the john or something?"

"No," Kyle answers not looking at me. "I assume he's at home."

I take this information in slowly. "You _assume_? Don't you two keep one another on a short lease?"

"Cartman," I hear the edge in Kenny's voice, but that only makes me more curious.

"I'm not talking to you," I tell him dismissively, not even bothering to look at him. My attention is solely on Kyle who doesn't seem to appreciate it. Not that I care. I watch him as he fidgets and shuffles his body under the covers. His face looks a little on the pink side, like he's embarrassed or something. And when his head tilts slightly, _THAT'S _when I see it.

Faster than I even thought I could, his chin is in my hand and his green eyes are wide with surprise as he meets my eye. Kenny seems to have bolted up, but again, I ignore him.

There's a tense silence in the air as I eye Kyle's face. Without warning I force his head to the side so I can get a look at his neck, where I think I saw the purple. I push his hair away and the bruise glares back at me. The length of it…the color of it…I clench his face with slightly more pressure.

"You're hurting me," he growls out.

I release him and sit back in my chair and look back and forth at him and Kenny. Waiting for an explanation. They don't seem to be forth coming with information, so I provide my own.

"Stan?"

Kyle winces and therefore answers my question.

"I thought you two didn't hit above the neck?"

"You knew they hit at all?" Kenny interrupts sounding annoyed.

"I know a lot you don't know," I tell him before going back to Kyle. "Kyle?" I press.

"It was my fault really," he finally says. "I was goading him."

"Who the fuck cares?!" Kenny snarls out. "That doesn't give him the right to punch you across the face. It's a cheap shot to someone you claim to love."

I snort and fold my arms across my chest. "I don't believe it."

"Don't believe what?" Both Kenny and Kyle ask at the same time.

"That Stan hit you for no good reason. You said you were goading him right?" I raise an eyebrow at Kyle in question and he nods slowly. "Goading him with what? Same old shit, huh Jew?"

Kyle's avoiding my gaze again and I know I'm right because of it.

"Same old shit?" Kenny asks, and I can see him looking back and forth at Kyle and I. Poor fucker has no idea what's going on. Not that many people do, not really anyway. "What does that mean?"

Kyle doesn't answer.

"Kyle! I asked you what the hell that meant?!"

"Cartman," I hear Kyle squeak out. Almost makes me smirk.

"Yeah fine," I answer his unasked question. "I'll tell him. Meanwhile you go take a shower, you stink."

"Right," he mutters as he raises himself off the sofa bed.

Kenny's looking completely lost as he watches Kyle sulk into his bathroom, shutting the door and locking it behind him. He slowly turns to look at me. I can see a thousand questions flashing in his eye, but I figure there's one he wants to know more than the others. Even if its only a little bit.

"You and Stan are really close friends," I state. "Me n' Kyle…" I trail off. "We get each other."

"You're best friends," Kenny corrects.

"No we're not!" I snap at him, feeling my eyes widen in anger. "We're not best friends," I repeat quieter. "I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand."

He sighs and mutters something I can't hear to himself before he speaks up. "Fine. Whatever. Now what do you know?"

I could grin at that. I kinda want to, but the situations a little too messed up for me to bother with. What do I know? I fucking know everything.

"Do you remember how those two first hooked up?" I ask

"Uh…I don't know. Stan asked him out, Kyle said yes," he shrugs.

I shake my head, "I mean do you remember the details?"

"Not really." Kenny scratches the back of his neck trying to remember. But I know he won't. He can't remember because he wasn't around for it.

"Give it up, you don't remember because you were too busy chasing some ass at the time."

"Was I?"

"Yeah, so it was more like Stan suddenly asks Kyle out, Kyle avoids him like the plague, Kyle suddenly says yes."

"…And you know all the details?" He looks skeptical.

"I know _all _the details," I nod firmly.

"Why?" He demands to know.

"Because Kyle told me."

"Because you're best fri-"

"Seriously dude!" I interrupt. "We're not! Jesus, drop it! He tells me because I know what a bastard he is."

"Kyle isn't a bastard."

"Yeah he is, and I'm the only one that acknowledges that. Think about it Kenny. How many fights does he get in?"

"None?"

I snort, "he gets into one at least once a day!"

"What, you mean with _you_?! You don't count Cartman. You two have been fighting since you first met!"

"Yeah dude, but I'm all talk! Kyle's the one throwing around the fists. Anytime I hark on you about being poor, or whenever I'd hark on Stan for acting like a complete fag you guys usually just shrug me off. Only a couple times have either of you hit me over it. Kyle's the aggressive one."

"Look man, just spell it out for me. I don't get where you're going with this," Kenny sighs out.

"My point is that if anything, Kyle is the one wearing the pants in his relationship with Stan. If Stan hit him…that asshole probably deserved. You heard him. He was goading Stan."

"Yeah but what could Kyle have said that would warrant getting hit? You said it was the "same old shit", what same old shit?"

I lean back in my crooked chair, trying to balance my weight. "Those two," I start out slowly. "Are a spousal abuse case waiting to happen. They got together all wrong, and are still together for all the wrong reasons. A total train wreck and I think your buddy Stan is just now starting to realize that."

"…what?"

"Don't you get it Kenny?" I ask staring him down. "They aren't the Romeo and Juliet everyone thinks they are. They're not Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy-"

"Since when do you read?"

I pretend I don't hear him, "those two were doomed from the start."

"What makes you say that?" Kenny asks quietly. I can tell he's starting to think a little bit more, to look past the little façade Stan and Kyle put up.

"Because," I state lightly. "Kyle may be a Jew, but he's _never_ been a fag, and he never will be."

**-FG **


	3. TOO MUCH

Root  
3three. TOO MUCH

It was never Stan's fault. Really it wasn't.

It was mine. And as I pretend to take a shower I keep my ear against the door as I listen as Cartman begins to tell the story _I _ought to be telling Kenny. He's calling me and Stan a train wreck because that's what we are.

Not wanting to hear anymore, or listen to Kenny as he blindly tries to defend my "relationship" with Stan I step into the shower. I wash slowly, barely registering the automatic ritual. It's only when I start to wash my face and neck, where I have to bite my lip, because of the bruise from where Stan hit me that I focus more on what I'm doing.

Damn, it still hurts. The bruise. And it hurts remembering who gave it to me…and why he gave it to me in the first place. I've done more than become someone I hate, I forced Stan to become someone he'd never be if it weren't for me.

If I were to pinpoint where things went to total shit it'd probably be the second Stan told me how he really felt about me.

"How did it get to this?" I mutter to myself as the shower water rains on me. I ask that, but I know how. If I had just...if I had only...

How many _times _have I asked myself the same questions over and over? The same questions that have the same answers?

I step out of the water when I realize it's turned cold. I towel myself off and cringe as I change back into the same clothes I stepped out of. I didn't really come to Kenny's prepared.

As I dry my hairs thick curls I wonder how far Cartman has gotten into my story. If he left anything out. I snort after a second. Of course he didn't leave anything out. He's Cartman for fucks sake.

I'm quiet as I open the bathroom door. I don't hear a sound coming from Kenny's living room and its making me wonder if they've left. Or if Kenny's stomped away to the place Stan and I share, to get his side of everything.

Stepping out into the tiny hallway I ignore the sound of the creaks from the flooring as I walk over them, stopping when I get into the living room. Kenny and Cartman are staring hard at each other. I can't really make out what Kenny looks like, but Cartman looks like he doesn't have a care in the world. I feel myself starting to tense. Maybe I shouldn't have let Cartman explain...

"Don't look so panicked. He didn't tell me a fucking thing," Kenny growls.

"Wh-what?" I stammer out, looking to Cartman for affirmation. "You didn't?" I ask him.

"Nothing except the bare minimum," he says lightly.

"And what," I squeeze my hands into a fist. "Is that exactly?"

"Just that if you had a choice between a dick and a pussy, you'd pick the latter."

I can feel my face heating up, and a grim frown settling in. It takes most of my will to look at Kenny. But he's looking at Cartman...no, past Cartman. He seems intent on not focusing on anything except maybe some stain on the wall.

"Oh," I manage out.

"Fat ass seems to think that if anyone ought to tell me the bitter details it ought to be you. He's got a point, doesn't he?" Kenny has finally turned to look at me and his facial expression makes me wince.

He doesn't look the way I figured he'd look at such a revelation. In fact, anger, while present isn't his dominate expression. He looks saddened...and extremely betrayed.

"Right," I swallow and glance around. The two of them at one point folded up the sofa bed and Kenny's sitting on one end of the couch, while Cartman is still on the chair he was earlier. My only options of places to sit (and I'll definitely need to sit) is on the other side of Kenny or the floor.

I eye my two options warily. Thinking through the con's of each.

"Sit down Kyle," Kenny suddenly demands, interrupting my mental list before it even begun.

The sharpness of his tone startles me, not that I deserve a lot of sympathy, but he doesn't really know that yet. Just as I'm about to take the spot opposite of him on the couch Cartman stands up to stretch. Both Kenny and I look at him, almost as if he's crazy and watch as he stretches his back muscles. Turning every which way to get the kinks out. He looks almost bored and he yawns before he walks over to the couch and plummets down onto it.

"That damn chair was breaking my back. Why don't you get some real furniture Kenny? Even Wal-mart's gotta have something you can afford," he says nonchalantly. While Kenny spares him a scowl I take that second to drop into the chair Cartman abandoned.

I know he moved for my sake, but if I show any gratitude he'll make sure never to do it again.

After the two of them have finished a little harmless bickering about Cartman's statements on Kenny's financial status, both sets of eyes fall back on me.

"Well?!" Kenny asks when I don't say anything after a long moment.

I nod my head, thinking over where I ought to start. How to start?

"Why don't you start by telling me how the fuck Cartman has been confided for all this?" Kenny suggests.

"That..." I mutter, thinking back to the very moment when I did. "Wasn't nearly as awkward as I thought it'd be. He..." I look at Cartman briefly before looking back to Kenny. "Knew something was bothering me awhile ago. I had asked him why I ought to tell him anything. He had said, '_because I'm the only person you can tell everything to_.'" Cartman says that last line with me, as if remembering it himself.

"It didn't make any sense," I continue. "At the same time it made perfect sense and I didn't need him to explain it to me. While I _loathed_ unveiling my relationship with Stan to someone I absolutely hated, if Cartman did find it in himself to be a complete predictable asshole and blab…not a sole would believe him, you know? Who would believe that I, Kyle Broflovski, went to spill my guts to Eric Cartman?"

Kenny, though scowling, is nodding in agreement.

"Then I asked him what he got out of all this since no one would believe him. And he...he..." I shake my head to myself. "He said, '_I guess the idea that you're desperate enough to tell _me_ your secrets is satisfaction enough…at the moment. So, let's get to it Jew_.'"

Kenny lets out a sigh and I watch him turn to Cartman, who's sorta smiling to himself. "God you're sick," he tells him. Cartman only shrugs and I watch his smile become more of a grin before Kenny turns back to me. "You two bastardize the word 'friendship' you know," he adds.

"We're not friends," both I and Cartman say in the same flat tone at the same time.

"Whatever," he mutters irritably to himself. "Okay," he continues, his voice becoming firmer. "I want to hear you say it. Cartman's a liar, a cheat, and a complete prick. His word means practically nothing to me."

"Aye!" Cartman exclaims, but neither I nor Kenny pay him any mind.

"I wanna hear you say it Kyle...are you really, I mean...you're not...?" He trails off, looking a little lost for words.

I do my best not to avoid his eye as I answer him. "I…I'm…." I trail off. This has got to be the hardest thing I've ever said, and I've already said it once to Cartman years ago. "Yeah," I answer him softly. "I'm not gay," I finish.

From Kenny's silent reaction I can tell that a part of him had been in denial. He really had been hoping that Cartman was pulling his leg. He'd actually been hoping I was gay.

"What?" He whispers out. Looking at me, then looking down at his hands. Almost as if he's trying to make sure that I'm real, that he's real, that he's not in a dream.

"Oh God Ken…" I bury my head in my hands, mortified by what I've had to say again. It's the first time I've ever said it out loud to anyone whose reaction I care about. "I'm not gay. I don't like men, I like girls. I like vaginas, and breasts and ovaries, and-"

"Just sounds like he wants a sex change huh?" Cartman interrupts.

I stop my rambling and look at Cartman. I have half a mind to kick him out, even if it's not my place. But I would never do that...because some part of me wants him to be here. Not that this is all going to be easier to say to Kenny, but it's almost soothing (and at that I almost heave) to have him around. If only for ridiculous commentary to remind me that I'm not alone with Kenny.

"No, you stupid fucker! You know I don't want a fucking sex change! You know how hard this is for me, telling Kenny I'm straight goddamnit!"

As usual he doesn't look surprised, but he's got one eye raised and I can tell he has something up his sleeve. "But aren't you're a fag?" he says slowly, questionably. I grit my teeth together and shake my head.

"But you have a boyfriend?" He "asks".

I nod.

"It's Stan."

I nod.

"So you _are_ a fag?"

I shake my head.

"Well if I didn't already know the situation I'd be confused as hell. Why don't you make things a bit more clear for blondie?"

I slowly open my eyes back up, seeing that Kenny is looking back and forth at Cartman and me with a look of pure mystification. No wonder. If Cartman hadn't badgered me like that I might've tip toed around what needed to be said.

I twist my hands in my lap and study them closely. Am I really, finally, going to tell Kenny everything I've kept to myself? I don't…want to. It was hard enough telling one person, Ken's another story. I trust him, love him like a brother. His opinion actually matters to me.

For the millionth time I really wish I hadn't started this all to begin with. Because now Stan…Stan and I…ugh. What the fuck have I done? To him? To _us_? He'll never forgive me and I won't forgive myself either. But this mess is eating away at me. I've become someone I've never been. I'm becoming a liar, a cheat, a prick...fuck, I'm becoming Cartman.

Because with every gentle look Stan gave me, with every kiss, and all those times he let me take him...

I'm a fucking monster. How could I do this to my best friend? To myself even?

"Kyle? You're zoning out man. You gotta focus." I hear Cartman's voice interrupt my thoughts and it puts me back on track, and before I know it I'm beginning my story again. Diving into things I wish were lies of someone else's life rather than my own. I take a deep breath because while this is going to hurt...there are a lot worse things to come. I've still yet to explain myself to Stan, to the one that really matters.

"I..." I start and fail. I take another breath and try again. "I don't know how I knew it, or what tipped me off...but one day I realized that Stan had...that he loved me, on a completely different level than I loved him. Which is pretty difficult for a 6th grader to understand….He didn't end up telling me until we started high school, but I realized it early on. And, when I did…I watched him. I didn't try anything; I just let things take their course. Honestly, I never figured he'd do anything about it. I figured that to him our friendship was worth too much to sacrifice by him saying anything. Besides," I toss up my hands in aggravation.

"I thought I was blatant about my heterosexuality! Okay, I didn't scream it at the top of my lungs, but who automatically thinks a guy is gay unless he's flaming? I watched as he ended things with Wendy, and watched as he never looked at another girl. But I made sure; I made DAMN sure, that I always talked about girls. About how much I loved their soft skin, and the things they did to make us guys crawl. After the years passed I honestly thought Stan would never come near me with his feelings. I felt no need to isolate him, or to suddenly avoid him because he was still my best friend. Maybe that was one of my many mistakes. Maybe I _should _have kept my distance…or maybe I should have just told him I knew.

In any case one day, without warning, he told me how he felt. I…for some reason was so _so _fucking pissed off. I kept thinking, 'how dare he?! Does our friendship mean nothing to him? Does he really want to make things that uncomfortable between us?' Because surely after he told me, things would never be the same between us. We'd pretend they were, but they wouldn't. And nothing would kill me more than to lose him.

I ended up avoiding him anyway," I snort at this. "I was afraid that I'd take my anger out on him, and as I did avoid him I knew my reaction threw him off. I knew he couldn't figure out why I'd be angry. I should have been embarrassed, or disgusted…those were the reactions he was looking for.

God! My anger and avoidance were hurting him more than any other reaction would have. He lasted a week before he came to my house begging, and shouting, and finally just getting angry back at me. Wondering what my problem was, why I was reacting the way I was. I would have just left it at that too. I would have just told him to fuck off, and be done with it. But how could I do that to _Stan_? So I took a moment and thought about it. I told him to go home, and that tomorrow we would talk."

I pause momentarily to rake a hand through my hair. I don't even bother to gauge Kenny's reaction to all this. The memories of that night, those times are starting to come back full force and it's more like I'm relaying them to myself rather than an audience. "That night I created this…this amazing lie. One that I didn't imagine would last five years, but here we have it!" I raise my eyes up in false laughter. "Five years later and we're still together…_shit_."

I take another moment to remember that time. How I sat in my room all night long and thought things through as best as I could. How to me, at the time, Stan's pain…the pain I felt radiating from him was something I could never bear to see again. How it wouldn't be…_so bad_…if I pretended to like him back. But just for awhile. It was all supposed to be just for a little bit of time. Until I could think of something better, or until Stan found somebody else.

I underestimated his feelings for me. I had ended up telling Stan that the reason I had been so angry was because I _was _too embarrassed. That I wished he hadn't told me at school…but that I felt the same way about him.

What a complete and utter lie. But his face! He was so…happy. So fucking happy that as he hugged me and shyly gave me a kiss that almost made me want to vomit, that I thought I could do it for him. Just for him, because of what he meant to me as a friend.

"It still stands that guys aren't my thing," I continue slowly to Kenny. "But…if I felt the same way Stan did for me as I lead him to believe…some…adjustments were in order. I knew I'd have to get the balls to hold hands, kiss, that sort of thing. And…I was okay with that. People in other countries kiss on the cheek all the time. Yeah it's not the lips but…" I rub my neck, willing the tension away. "It's how I justified it to myself.

I assumed that I could feign gay modesty for a long time. Maybe to the point that Stan would get bored with me not willing to go further than a few make-out sessions and decide I wasn't for him. But then on our 2nd year anniversary we had a talk. Stan told me that if I didn't love him anymore, it was okay. That we could break up if that's what I wanted. If that's what _I_ wanted Kenny?! I mean, _FUCK_! Why couldn't he stop caring so much about me! Why couldn't we have just been friends? I wouldn't let him get past first base, and instead of getting bored with me he thinks there's something wrong with _him_!?" I can feel myself getting worked up, almost hysteric, but it's hard not to. It's just too much.

"And that, _that_ Kenny, should have been the end of it all! He handed me my ticket out of a BS relationship of two years! And what did I do? _WHAT DID I DO?!_ I went and reassured him! I couldn't take the look on his face, the way he was holding back tears as he told me he'd be "okay" if I wasn't for him. I reassured him with a kiss, and then I swallowed my male pride, and buried my guilt and actually slept with him for the first time."

I pretend not to hear Cartman gag. I figured he would, but I'm on a roll and nothing short of Stan himself could stop me.

"I don't know how I managed that time, or the many times after that. It was horrible. To have sex with someone you love, but far from loving in the way sex ought to call for. But Stan felt something different. To him…to him it was real. So…it wasn't too bad. It helped that I was the one…you know…giving. It was easier to envision that it was something I would normally do. Then one time Stan asked us to switch places…and I did, and I thought I'd be sick. I was disgusted. I couldn't get it. I still don't get it. I'm okay with people being gay, but I don't get the pleasure that comes from that…specific hole. Anyway," I rub my palms together. "We never switched again, and Stan seemed to be okay with that. I think he just figured I didn't like to bottom. Thank God he seemed to enjoy it enough."

"Okay, okay-" Kenny interrupts. His face is a whirlwind of emotions but I can't even begin to name a single one. "I get it. Stan loved you and rather than be a _human being_ and simply tell him you weren't interested, you fabricated five year's worth of a bullshit romance. Get to where you guys start to beat the shit out of each other."

I sigh, "Right. Well, while I could feign a certain degree of bashfulness in the beginning I couldn't do that years down the line. Suddenly Stan started to realize that even three years later I still flinched at his kisses in private. I never initiated anything…except when we were in public, and that was simply to keep up appearances. I didn't want to share a bed with him, so I'd pick fights to get myself booted onto the couch. That worked for quite awhile until he started to realize I'd pick fights about the stupidest crap. But then it was okay, because we'd fight about how I'd pick fights and things just spiraled out of control."

"Who threw the first punch, kick, shove, whatever? Who started it?" Kenny pushes on.

"Stan. But of course I-"

"You instigated it," Kenny finishes for me and I nod, continuing.

"I can't remember the exact conversation, but it had something to do with Stan accusing me of being ashamed of our relationship. I said something like, '_so?! So what if I am_?!' and then he got pissed, red in the face with anger…and sadness, but he covered it up with his anger and he just…shoved me. Telling me if I was so ashamed I ought to go fuck someone else, date someone else, live somewhere else."

"Another invitation you didn't take?" Kenny questions.

"I don't know why, but I just got angrier. Even though he obviously didn't know how I really felt I was still pissed. I kept thinking, if he only _knew _what I'd done to make him happy!" I let out a fake laugh and cover my mouth with a hand. I stare down at the flooring, blinking rapidly to keep any sort of tears from coming. "I still don't know what came over me all those years ago. What made me think doing this was a good idea, that it would really make Stan happy in the end. Now it's turned to this…and I don't know what to do anymore. I'm a, I'm a…I can't even think of a word for myself and _Cartman!_" I look up sharply, ignoring the one tear that did fall. "Don't even think of helping me come up with one."

He holds his hands up in defense, but says nothing. I cast my eyes back down and jump a little when a hand rests down on my shoulder. Kenny's expression is still unreadable when I look back up at him. He squeezes my shoulder briefly before situating himself back on his couch.

"You're not…" he begins, "the worst of the worst Kyle. What you did, which I can't believe you did, _never_ _mind_ that you let it go on so long, may not have been the best of ideas. But, underneath all the piles of lies you did it for a good reason right? You did it for Stan's happiness right? I mean," he looks to the side for a second, "talk about twisted ideas, but you only had good intentions to begin with. It's not like your idea was to humiliate Stan right?"

"Of course not!" I interject fiercely. "I just, I never wanted to lose him. He's more than my best friend, he's more than a brother to me he's…he's Stan," I finish in a small voice.

"And you're a dumbass for thinking rejecting him would tear you two apart." Cartman says.

His statement surprises me, and it seems to surprise Kenny as well.

"You may not be a fag like him, but you two have still always had a faggy relationship."

I sniff a little bit, "that's true," I mutter to myself.

"So dude?" Kenny asks suddenly.

"What?"

"When you came here yesterday you were so persistent about the details of you and Tweek dancing together. You made it sound like if I had confirmed it was some sort of intimate dancing Stan was going to have your head."

"…Yeah. That…well, I guess the point is that even if I had goaded Stan to hit me, he still hit me. And, I really was surprised by that. He kept accusing me of wanting Tweek and that's definitely not the case. I was trying to see what it was that he was seeing, but now that I think about he probably wasn't seeing anything. Dancing with Tweek that night, letting go like that…that's the way I want my relationship with Stan to be. Dancing without the knowledge of my partner thinking there's something more besides what's really there. I haven't done that in awhile. I really don't know the specifics of why Stan hit me…guess I'd have to ask him."

At that idea I glance up at Kenny's little crooked clock that's obscurely pinned to one of his side walls. It's about 10 a.m., and I've yet to hear from Stan. I know I can't spend forever in Kenny's place, that eventually I'll have to go back home. The thought of leaving this place that's now filled with people, albeit only two, who know everything I've been hiding mortifies me. Besides, I still don't know what I ought to do to fix this, and still keep my friend.

"You may not be able to get both," Kenny answers, even though I didn't ask anything. "You _will _have to tell Stan Kyle. This can't go on and now that I know, I won't let it go on. We're not as close as you two are, we might never be, but on my end Stan's still my closest friend and I won't let him be played like this. I'm not sure exactly where you two stand right now, but as of yesterday he genuinely loved you."

"I know," I whisper. "I know."

With that said every single muscle in body tenses at the sound of a hesitant knock on Kenny's door. While I'm not able to look at it I see that both Kenny and Cartman have glanced at it.

"Dude's got timing," Cartman says as he stands up. "Time for me to bail."

"But Cartm-" I stop myself as he looks over at me with a raised eyebrow. "Never mind," I finish and he nods firmly to himself. "Kenny, I'm going out your back door."

Kenny grunts a reply and stands himself but heads for his front door. He stops once he stands before it to look back at me and Cartman. Cartman's looking at me, but he seems unable to say anything. Finally, he just shrugs and gives me a half wave before disappearing through Kenny's kitchen, to where the back side door is. At the sound of it sliding open, and then sliding shut with a firm slam I feel my insides begin to twist into knots.

I don't know why I feel like I've just been abandoned. But I do.

"Hey man," I hear Kenny say as he opens his door.

"Kyle here?"

At the sound of Stan's voice what's left of me to turn inside out, does so and I have to force myself to stay seated where I am, and not disappear in the direction that Cartman went.

"What makes you think he's here?" Kenny asks, being deliberately evasive.

"Because he's not at Cartman's. I checked there first."

Even in my current state of tied nerves, that comment makes me scowl.

I can hear Kenny smirk and I watch as he slowly turns his head to look at me. "Yeah," he says, more to me than Stan. "He's here." Kenny steps aside, and with a heavy heart I watch as Stan steps inside Kenny's rundown apartment.

His eyes lock with mine instantly and from his face I know he didn't spend last night sleeping. The bags under his eyes are heavy and I've no idea if that's from lack of sleep, crying, or a combination of the two. I look away.

"Right," Kenny says. "Well I've got stuff to-" Kenny stops midsentence when gets a look at my face. "I mean I'll be in my room, doing…shit." He starts to head for his room when he seems to remember something. "Oh wait," he mutters and turns to Stan. I don't know who's more surprised, me or Stan, when Kenny suddenly punches him square in the jaw. "That's for hitting Kyle, even if he might have deserved it. I'll go get you some ice for your face."

Walking off to do so, Stan nurses his jaw and I stop myself from reaching out toward him in concern.

"His right hook is as good as people say it is," he says quietly.

"That so?" I mutter, subconsciously reaching for my own wound.

Stan's eyes widen and he practically lunges in my direction, his hand forward as if to cup my face. I instinctively flinch and he freezes. Dropping his hand back down to his side he drops to the floor.

"Ky, I'm-" he starts. His voice is shaking horribly. "I'm so sorry."

"I know. I know you didn't mean it, and I shouldn't have been goading you like that…but we need to talk," I tell him softly, rubbing an itch on my shoulder.

"Yeah," he says, lowering his face to look at his tense interlocked hands. "Yeah we do."

**-FG**


	4. TOO LATE

**AN: **The amount of angst and OOC in this chapter might burn your eyes. Sorry, couldn't help myself. I was in an angsty mood. -FG

Root

Four. TOO LATE

I wish our relationship was perfect. As perfect as people think it is, but it's so fucked up I almost want to laugh sometimes at its existence.

As Kenny returns with a wrapped pack of ice for my face he looks at me funny, but he doesn't say anything before disappearing. Probably to his room to "do shit."

With a slight wince at the cold I rest the pack against my jaw.

Kyle hasn't said anything yet, except for the expected, '_we need to talk_.' It's a rather large understatement, but I'll save the arguing for later. As much as I seem to be avoiding his gaze, he seems to be doing the same. It doesn't look like either of us wants to start this conversation, but we have to eventually. So I start it, with something I've always wanted to know.

"Do you love me?"

I can't look at him as I ask, but I can hear the sharp intake of breath. I hope that he doesn't beat around it, I hope he doesn't say, _'of course.'_ Because that just means he loves me like a friend, and I already know he does.

There's a lot of hesitation from his end, but finally, "it's not that simple."

I slowly raise my head to look at him and find his eyes are already waiting for mine. "Why not?"

"Because it's more complicated than that."

For a second the Kyle in front of me fades away and is replaced with the one I first confessed to five years ago. That image vanishes as soon as it's formed. I'm wondering when five years began to feel like fifty.

I remember the moment when I realized that what I felt for Kyle went beyond our friendship. I was still pretty young at the time, and the emotions were a little frightening so I tried not to think about them too much. As the years went by though, I started to question them and my own behavior.

We had been at Starks Pond, freezing as usual, and Kenny and Cartman were out on the Pond with some of the others playing ice hockey. We hadn't been talking about anything out of the ordinary, a homework assignment or something, when we watched as Cartman suddenly fell and cracked the ice. The crack was quickly running through the entire Pond and all the kids were scrambling to get off before it collapsed under them.

Kenny had been yelling angrily at Cartman, telling him he wasn't allowed to place ice hockey with them anymore because everyone was sick of having to avoid death by drowning in a freezing cold Pond. It hadn't been anything that wasn't expected but Kyle and I still laughed at Cartman's expense. For some reason at that moment I had looked over at Kyle, probably to see how hard he was laughing and rather than continue to do so my own laughter fell. I don't know why that moment meant so much at that time, but even though Kyle was sitting there beside me like normal, laughing like normal, things weren't normal.

His eyes were crinkled a little bit as he laughed and stared at the scene of the other guys arguing, yelling, and skating off the Pond. His hair was hidden, as it always was back in those days. Nothing had changed; Kyle looked and had been acting the same as he always did. It was something about me that changed, and at hearing me stop laughing he turned to meet my gaze.

"Dude, what's wrong?" he had asked me and it took me awhile before I shook my head and looked back at the Pond.

"Nothing," I had responded, lying.

That's when I knew things were different for me, though I tried not to let them show.

Eventually against my own better judgment I had decided to tell Kyle how I felt, whatever it was. At the time I figured I was in love, or at least as in love as any freshman could be.

I met him at the place we always met each other in school, his locker, since it was the closest to the main entryway. I had been watching him stuff a couple things in, while taking other things out. His face was scrunched with concentration and I almost laughed from where I stood. It was cute, and it was Kyle.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and walked about two steps when Cartman shoved into me, declaring I was blocking the hallways. At the sound of his booming voice, Kyle had turned his head in my direction. He gave Cartman his usual sneer, which was returned back with equal force, before smiling at me.

His smile made me lose my resolve and rather than smile back and confess as I had planned, I turned on my heels and walked toward my first class. Or rather,_our_ first class. Kyle probably hadn't thought much of it, because he quickly ran to catch up with me, immediately talking about what an ass Cartman was and how come I didn't say anything to him. I hadn't been paying the closest attention to what he was saying. I was too focused on taking steps to class, trying to figure out if I really ever should tell Kyle, wondering, thinking, pondering…

Eventually, before I stepped into class, Kyle grabbed my shoulder and yanked me back. The force he put into it surprised me and I actually went flying against the side wall. He muttered a quick apology at the action and demanded to know what was wrong and if I was okay. Apparently my lack of response was freaking him out.

And for some God-awful reason, I told him. Right then, right there, without much thought to the consequences. "Kyle, I love you." I had said bluntly.

He blinked.

"I love you," I repeated, that time with a whisper, that time with a hint of shame. As if I had tried to do everything in my power not to love him, not to tell him.

I watched as Kyle's hand was suddenly ripped away from mine, as if my shoulder was suddenly made of hot coals and I had burned him. He was still staring at me and I could see his mind was moving at a speed I didn't know existed and finally he gave me his reaction.

The anger that started to seep through confused me. If anything I always assumed Kyle would be embarrassed or disgusted, but the _anger..._that I had never anticipated. His face was getting red, his fists tight, I almost expected him to punch me. But he didn't. Instead he walked right into class without saying a word to me, and took his normal seat.

I hadn't followed Kyle inside the classroom, even though the bell had rung. I remained standing outside in the hallway, pressed against the wall from where Kyle had edged me. A couple of my classmates had given me weird looks, a few others questioned on whether or not I was going inside. To them, I only shook my head and walked off.

I had been in a daze. I was trying to figure out Kyle's reaction and I guess a teacher found me and couldn't get much of a response from me so I was ushered to the nurses where I rested for a few periods. She let me nap, or that's what she wanted me to do, instead I continued to think of Kyle. I told myself that maybe I had just frightened him. The whole thing was out of the blue for him…but, he sure hadn't seemed frightened. Pissed off isn't even a strong enough phrase to describe what I had seen swimming in his eyes.

At some point the nurse came back, saw that I was awake and asked me if I would like for her to call my mom to come pick me up. I suddenly sat up and shook my head as I heaved my legs over the edge. I told her I would go back to class. She asked me a few more questions, but I didn't acknowledge them and even now I don't know what she asked.

The lunch period was in full swing when I left her office and I made my way down the halls to the cafeteria without much thought. As I pulled open the doors, everything seemed in order. The noise level was outrageous, the lunch line ridiculously long, and Kyle was sitting with our usual group of friends. Laughing.

Kenny had been the one to spot me first. "There you are asshole! I heard you faked ill to get out of that math test huh?!" He joked, and all the guys turned to look at me, with the same grins on their face that Kenny had. Only Kyle didn't look at me.

It took me a moment, a moment of willing him to look at me, before I found my footing. I forced a smile and calmly sat down next to my best friend, where Clyde automatically moved since that spot was always reserved for me.

"Yeah," I had said trying to laugh. "What can I say? I wasn't ready. Figured it wouldn't kill to get an extra day to study you know?"

It didn't feel like I had played that off well, and if the look Kenny and even Cartman were the only things to go by I'd say I hadn't. But the others, since they weren't as close of friends, took it at face value and changed the topic back to whatever they had been talking about before I came.

Kyle had been continuing to stare at his food, barely moving when I sat down next to him and as much as I didn't want to cause him any more discomfort I had to ask.

"Can we talk later?" I muttered to him quietly, but all the same Ken and Cartman were watching me like hawks.

Kyle only tensed and suddenly stood with the anger back on his face. Eyes flew to him in confusion and he muttered out a lame excuse about extra credit before leaving.

I had tried not to let it bother me, but his reaction was starting to hurt. What was he so angry about? I watched him go and I probably would have kept watching the doors he left through if Kenny had not dropped a hand on my shoulder to get my attention.

"He's busy you know?" Kenny had said. "You can call him later."

"…Right," I had answered and tried to concentrate on the lunch Kenny shoved in my direction.

I called Kyle later, when school let out and his mom said he wasn't home. I knew she was lying for him by the tone of her voice. She wasn't comfortable doing it, and she obviously didn't know why she had too. Last she checked her son and I had been best friends, attached at the hip.

It seems so immature now, but Kyle avoided me all week. We only had first period together so it was a pretty easy feat. He ignored me at lunch and opted to sit in between Cartman and Craig. If the other guys knew something was up they didn't say anything about it and for that I've always been grateful.

He didn't pick up my calls either, and each day was turning out to be harder and harder than the last. Why couldn't he just _tell _me what he was so mad about? Had I known that was going to be his reaction I might not have said anything. But that was a lie to myself. The problem was the feelings I was having for him wouldn't allow me to keep quiet anymore. That's why I told him in the first place.

For awhile there I thought I had completely lost my best friend. I didn't pay attention in class anymore, and I couldn't have cared less that tests were turned in blank, and homework wasn't done at all.

"What's up with you two?" Kenny had asked me after the week had spanned by. He and I had been walking home, while it seemed Kyle and Cartman had been walking home together.

I had given Kenny a grunt as a response and as we walked he suddenly stopped and I stopped with him.

"Just go to his place," Kenny said. "Ike's got some shitty play his parents are going to in a few, you guys can talk."

"…What makes you think he'll let me in?" I had asked sullenly.

"Mrs. B called me the other day. Apparently she's as tired as everyone else of Kyle acting like an angry dictator, and you acting like a depressed zombie. She'll let you in and then her and Mr. Broflovski are sneakin' out."

I looked at Kenny blankly and he looked back before he pushed me in the direction of Kyle's house. "Go," he had ordered and I went.

I don't much remember the walk to Kyle's house, just that it was hard and that more than once I thought of taking the long way back to my own house. But when I thought of that it only hurt. I didn't know how much longer I could be avoided like this, hated like this and not understand why.

I didn't even knock on Kyle's front door before Mrs. Broflovski opened it with a tight smile. "He's upstairs in his room glaring at the wall no doubt. You boys really ought to get over this fight okay?" She asked and I only nodded as Kyle's dad came up behind his mom smiling at me with encouragement.

If they only knew at the time.

"Kyle! Your father and I are going now!" She had yelled up toward the stairs. It was a second or two before Kyle responded, still in an angry tone.

"I KNOW! YOU DON'T HAVE TO KEEP TELLING ME!"

"Do you hear that?" Mrs. Broflovski had been exclaiming. "The way he yells back at me like that! I ought to-"

"Come on honey," Mr. Broflovski had said as he ushered her out. "Good luck Stan," he said to me as he shut the door behind them.

And with that I had been left alone with Kyle for the first time since I told him how I felt. I was nervous. I stared at the long staircase far longer than I should have before I started to ascend. When I got to his room, I heard the loud music and it made me hesitate in knocking. My small nerve was breaking and I almost didn't knock at all. So imagine my surprise when I did. It was kind of like my hand had a mind of its own. I stared at Kyle's door in horror and waited for him to answer.

"What?!" He called out. "What now?! I thought you guys were leaving?!"

I hadn't dared to move. I wasn't able to move and _yet_ I found myself knocking again. I listened to the sounds of Kyle's exasperation and him turning off the music as he shuffled his way to the door. At the sound of his feet approaching I meant to turn and fly back down the stairs but all at the same time I just _couldn't_.

"Mom! I said what do you-" Kyle opened the door and stopped mid-sentence when he saw me standing there, looking nothing his mother. "Want," he finished lamely.

Even being frozen in place I saw a glint of something soft in Kyle's dark green eyes. But the same eyes quickly stormed over and he began to close his bedroom door shut before I launched myself at the door.

Too late.

The door had closed.

"Kyle," I said and I could hear the begging in my voice. I pressed my body against the door, one hand on the door knob, the other resting at my side

"Go away," I heard Kyle's sharp command.

"Kyle _please_," I said, even softer. "Are you just going to ignore me forever, are we never going to talk ever again? Come on! I'm…I didn't mean…I don't know what to do here," I finally squeaked out.

At that the door flew open and I almost fell through the doorway, lucky enough for me Kyle was right there to break my fall.

I heard the violent thumps and the sharp intakes of breath. After shaking my head I looked down at him, noticing he was holding himself up with one elbow, the other rubbing the back of his head.

"Ow," Kyle hissed

"Are you okay?" I asked, and for second I forgot why it was we ended up in this position. Kyle tended to be accident prone and because of his pale skin he bruised easily.

"I'm fine! Get off of me," Kyle huffed out, pushing me from his body.

"But your head," I started, standing back away from him to help him up.

"I said I'm fine and I told you to go away! Don't you listen?!" He snapped at me, glaring as hard as he could muster.

It had been the glare that set me off. I was done being hurt, and confused, I was getting pissed off myself.

"Yeah I heard you," I responded back sharply. "But I'm not going anywhere. I tell you I love you and you act like a complete ass toward me all week! Do you have any idea how I've been feeling? I barely know what to think and you, you…" I could feel my anger fading as quick as it came. I just couldn't keep it up. I wasn't mad. "If you don't want a fag as a friend you could've just told me. It would have been better than this," I whispered and turned to leave.

And I thought that was going to be the end of things. I thought that was the end of our, then fourteen year, friendship but Kyle stopped me.

"Don't call yourself that," he said tersely with his hand wrapped around my wrist.

"Why not?" I asked, ripping my hands from his grasp. "That's what you're thinking isn't it? That you can't stand to be around me, that I disgust you, that you wish we were never friends to fucking begin with!" It was the first time, in a long time that I felt tears stinging the corners of my eyes. I think the time before that had been when Sparky died and that was three years earlier.

"That's not it at all!" Kyle had yelled, frustrated about…something. I didn't get it then. "Look I just…Stan I've gotta think about this okay? I'm sorry I've been such a prick, but you surprised me. I just…I have to have more time. _Please, _just a bit more, until tomorrow?"

I wasn't sure what he had to think about. I assumed it was on the state of our friendship and whether or not he wanted to continue it, so I only nodded numbly and left.

And then the next day Kyle approached me after school and we talked. He told me he felt the same way I did for him. He said the reason he had been so angry was because he was embarrassed that I had blurted everything out in the middle of the hall, and I had laughed a little bit. It was mostly a relieving sort of laughter, but I told him that made sense and that I was sorry for embarrassing him.

I asked if he was sure about how he felt and I thought I might have seen a flicker of hesitation but it was gone before it registered. He only nodded and smiled.

That is, and probably always will be, the happiest day of my life. Even though he had _just told _me how he clearly felt about public displays I couldn't help but snag a quick kiss. It didn't seem to bother him too much, but he was clearly surprised.

After that I couldn't see my future as anything but bright.

I was such a fool.

I should have known. I knew he didn't feel the same way...but I loved him. I _love _him. And his leaving me is my greatest fear right now. It's my greatest fear because it's inevitable, so it's best if I leave first.

The way he looks now, saddened, lost…they're practically mirrors of me. This relationship has done nothing but suck the both of us dry. I'm so tired of fighting, of screaming at the top my lungs, of shoving him because he won't kiss me in the privacy of what I thought was supposed to be our home.

I'm tired of always having to coax him into making love. The very phrase makes me snort. Making love. It's an obligation for him, nothing more. Yet, I can't figure out why he stays.

We fight so much. About everything. He starts them, I start them, we can barely agree on anything. We put on a nice little front for our friends and I suppose to them we _are _in a perfect relationship because it's only in front of them that I've ever been allowed to show Kyle any affection.

When I saw him dancing with Tweek at that club in Denver I felt like he was punching me as hard as he possibly could. He must have known what that would do to me. For as long as we've been together he's never...smiled and laughed at me the way he did with Tweek. Because he knew Tweek wasn't interested. Tweek had Craig, so their time together was simply two friends hanging out and having a good time.

"Break it down for me then," I say quietly. "Why is it so complicated?"

At first I don't think he's going to answer me. He's been studying his hands for so long I thought he'd decided not to say anything, but he does. "Because…because we've been together for five years…friends even longer than that."

"And in those five years I haven't once felt that you really felt the same for me. Am I wrong?"

He says nothing.

"Am I wrong?" I repeat hearing the strangled sound in the edge of my throat.

"Yes," he says timidly, rubbing his hands together as he looks to the side.

"Kyle," I say softly. "You're lying. Why are you still lying?"

"I'm not!" His voice rises louder.

"Stop! Stop faking it! I don't know why you are, I don't know why you have been, but I don't appreciate it!"

There's a silence that lingers between us. I don't know how long it goes on. It could be minutes, it could be an hour, but the only sounds are the light breathing of the both of us.

"If," he starts, cracking the silence. "If I said I didn't love you…and that, and that I never did. What would you say? What would you do?"

I stare at him hard and even though he still isn't looking at me, the harshness of my gaze eventually forces him to do so.

"I don't know if I could say anything, but I know I'd want to cry since I've loved you every day for seven years."

"I'm sorry Stan!" He cries out and he buries his face in his hands, unable to keep up the pretense.

I lean my body against the back of the chair I'm on, letting my neck hang over in that awkward angle and close my eyes. It's no use though. They still come. I knew this is what would happen and I had even tried to prepare myself mentally, even so…it makes no difference. It still feels like the air has left my lungs. It still feels like I won't be happy again.

My head is slowly spinning and I feel as if I've gotten off a very harsh carousel ride. I'm nauseous and feel like vomiting and I have a headache coming.

He never loved me?

I knew. But I'd hoped, because that's what people do.

"Then I don't understand," I manage out, feeling the bile climbing up my throat. "Why?"

"I didn't want it to be awkward, I didn't want our friendship to suffer because of it, and most of all I wanted you to be happy," he mumbles out. "That day you came to my house you should have seen your face. You were hurting so badly, you were in so much pain…there was no way I could deny you anything. I wanted to see you smiling again and laughing with me again. I just wanted my best friend happy."

"…You went through five years of a relationship you didn't want to be part of to make _me _happy?" That doesn't make sense. "Kyle how could I have been happy when you weren't? I admit the first few months I _was _deliriously happy. I was drunk on it…but it was so easy for me to see that you weren't, even if you didn't say why. So, to say that you did all this for my sake…when I haven't been that happy for over four years, sounds crazy."

"I know it is, but I hadn't meant for it to go on so long…I thought you'd find someone else eventually," he says slowly.

I let out a fake chuckle, "after you I didn't think there'd be anyone else."

He tenses. I can tell he didn't expect me to say that even if it's how I honestly feel. There's a lot more things I want to ask Kyle. Like how he could kiss me, touch me, when he didn't feel a thing, but the very thought of hearing those answers exhaust me and I decide I don't want to know a lot of it. I got the basic answer anyway.

"Can I ask you question?" Kyle mutters, meeting my eyes once more.

I nod slowly, not sure if I really want to hear his question.

"Why would you hit me?"

His voice is crystal clear as he asks it, and while I'd expect him to be angry about it, he just looks like he really wants to know. I stare at the side of his face where I know the bruise is and while I still can't believe I did that, I know the exact reason and I don't falter in telling me. All the same I can't look at him as I do it either.

"…I wanted you to feel how I've been feeling for the past 4 years because…you know what sucks Kyle?" I don't wait for him to answer. "When you love someone with everything you have, but you know they don't feel the same. They don't break things off, or tell you what you could do to make them feel the same. They just lead you on, giving you false hope that they might come around. It's a horrible feeling. And when you had been standing in front of me yelling all I could see was the person who would never love me back, but wouldn't tell me. The person who only relaxed around others and when I wasn't around. I remembered so many of our petty fights and all the times I wondered why anyone would fight over anything so silly…everything swarmed at me and I snapped."

At the sound of sniffling I glance back over at Kyle and see that he's wiping at his cheeks, "I tried," he spits out. "I really did. I wanted it to be the same, for me to give you the love that you gave me. I did give it my all, but Stan I just _don't_…and I didn't want to lose you. I still don't. I don't know what I'd have to do to keep you. Won't you tell me, because I've made us both miserable! I made you hit me when you never in a million years would have hit anyone, except for Cartman, and that hurts more than actually having been hit."

"You're such an idiot," I growl out. Without hesitation I reach over and wrap him in a hug. Holding tight to his shoulders not caring that he's slobbering all over mine. "No matter what, even if you dumped me you wouldn't be able to get rid of me. It'd hurt…but I'd be okay in the end. If you didn't feel the same you should have just said so. You're my best fucking friend you son of a bitch."

"I am, even now?" He mumbles into my shoulder.

"Even now."

I wonder if it's wrong that at this moment I'm clinging to him more than just to make him feel better. I'm trying to make myself feel better since he never let me hold him like this before. That and I'm trying not to let my insides collapse on me. I feel like crying myself, like going into a corner and bawling. It's selfish, but I wanted Kyle for myself and I can't ever have him. At least not in the way I truly want.

Eventually though I can feel when it's time to let him go before he starts to get uncomfortable. We separate and go back to our separate seats.

"Where do we go from here?" Kyle asks.

I was waiting for this question from the second I decided to come to Kenny's place. No, from the second Kyle fled here after I hit him.

I reach around in my coat pocket and extract my keys. Dropping them into Kyle's unsuspecting hands.

"What're these?"

"The apartment keys…well, my copies anyway."

"Huh?"

"One of us has gotta move out, and Shelly could use the help paying rent at her place so she doesn't mind me going there. Of course it's going to be pure hell for the both of us but, she's still my sister."

Kyle looks at the keys, and then me. "Shelly lives in New Mexico."

I take a deep breath, "yeah. Not exactly prime real estate, but it'll do."

"You don't have to-" he starts, but I cut him off.

"I do."

"But I -!" He starts to protest.

"Even if you hadn't told me everything I partially came here to end things between us. We're shit together, and you know it too. Besides I _hit _you and even if you've forgiven me I can't forgive myself. I've never hit anyone. A person can't go walking around swinging their fists _eh Kenny_?" I add the last part loudly.

Kyle turns his head sharply and we watch Kenny slink in, not looking the least bit sorry at having been caught eavesdropping.

"Guess that makes sense," he says as I toss the ice pack onto his coffee table. "New Mexico huh?"

I nod.

"When you leaving?"

"Today, after this."

"What?" Kyle whispers out, turning back to face me.

"I spent most of last night thinking, making some phone calls, and then packing; finishing up early this morning. Everything I own is either in my car right now or on its way to New Mexico via FedEx."

While Kyle continues to look lost for words, Kenny comes up to me and gathers me in a hug. Something he never does.

"When're you coming back?" He mutters.

"Dunno, maybe never?"

"Don't talk like that mother fucker."

"Wanna come with me? I could use the crutch. I'm not really taking all this as well as I look."

Kenny and I break apart with him holding me out with both his arms, a cocky grin on his face. "I know, but how could I leave all this?" He asks, gesturing to his shitty apartment. "Maybe eventually, Kyle's got you-know-who anyway and we gotta stick together in pairs at least."

"I'll call you when I get there," I say with a firm nod and Kenny nods back before releasing his hold on me. "Have a safe trip man. I'm going out for a smoke," he adds and waves before heading for his back door to do just that.

"No way, this is all too sudden," Kyle says lightly. "You can't just go."

"Then what should I do? Give me a break Kyle," I say trying to give him a smile only to fail miserably. "Just looking at you hurts like hell you know. I need to go away for a bit…and you'll be better off without me around for awhile too." I stand up, deciding that it's time to go.

Kyle sees this and his eyes start to flicker around as if he's looking for something to give him an idea of what to say next. And then I do smile softly, and I reach out, cupping his cheek gently. His frantic eyes lock on mine and he finally lets out a slow sigh. He closes his eyes briefly before opening them back up and that's when I see him understand. Of course he would, because we can read each other like no other.

I head out of Kenny's the same way Kenny left for a smoke. Once I shut the door firmly behind me I turn to him, watching as he leans against the building, eyeing the smoke that's leaving his lips.

"He's got loads more to tell you," he says.

"I figured as much…I guess I've still got a lot to tell him too."

'"Then shouldn't you stick around a bit longer?"

I give Kenny a pained expression and he holds his hands up in defense, before heaving himself off the building and flicking his cigarette to the side. Kenny watches me for a length he knows has me uncomfortable, not that he cares, but eventually I watch his head turn slowly to the side.

"What?" I press.

"It's because he's not gay dude."

I stare at Kenny for a bit, before staring at the closed apartment door and back at him again. Before I know it I've started to laugh. Laughing so hard and loud that I'm sure even Kyle can hear me, so it's a good thing he doesn't come out to investigate. Because my laughter turns slightly and I find myself on the dirty ground, clutching the barely alive grass, sobbing relentlessly. I'm not sure when but I can at some point feel Kenny wrapping an arm around my shoulder, but it doesn't stop the endless tears.

Kyle and I…we were just two people, too damaged, too much, too late.

Maybe it _is_ time to call our friendship to an end.

**-FG**


End file.
